


How to Be One of Those Assholes

by allihearisradiogaga



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aobajousai, Canon Compliant, Gen, Rule the Court Zine, Seijoh - Freeform, Support, Team Bonding, Teamwork, Zine, practice, supportive team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22421890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allihearisradiogaga/pseuds/allihearisradiogaga
Summary: Kindaichi doubts his place on such a competitive team, and receives some reassurance.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	How to Be One of Those Assholes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for the Rule the Court zine (a Seijoh-centered zine) that came out in the summer and I totally forgot to post it (sorry).
> 
> It was such a great experience, and you can check it out at https://seijohzine.tumblr.com/

Submission for _Rule the Court_ zine

* * *

Kindaichi was a little overwhelmed.

Intimidated, more like, but overwhelmed for sure.

He was a tall guy, even as a first year. He didn’t often feel like he was the smallest one in the room.

Seijoh managed to make him feel it, though.

He stepped into practice, a slight squeak coming from his sneakers as he approached. He was almost clipped by some of the second and third years as they took a lap to warm up—though Hanamaki did run back for a sheepish wave by way of apology. Kindaichi took a step backward in recoil from the runners before trying for the court again.

As he did, he only narrowly avoided a ball as it was spiked downward, bouncing against the floor just in bounds about five feet away from him before going ricocheting into the path of the upperclassmen.

Matsuwaka took a step back and kneaded at his palm, alleviating some of the ball’s sting. He turned to Yahaba and grinned sheepishly.

“Easy there, Matsu-chan!” shouted Oikawa from the group of players. Matsuwaka gave an ashamed wave to the group of joggers and turned back to Yahaba.

“Toss another one.” He grinned, and Yahaba’s nod was a little smugger than was perhaps warranted.

Yahaba was a show-off, and Kindaichi knew that already. They’d been practicing a while, they had played together, won together, _lost_ together—and still Yahaba seemed to feel the need to make it known how good he was. Matsuwaka wasn’t as showy, but he also wasn’t one to miss a block. And now—

There was a _thwack_ as the ball bounced off of his hand, barreling into the floor before bouncing to where the group of joggers were working their way around the gym. Hanamaki did a little hop-leap over the ball, casting a glance over his shoulder at Matsuwaka, who barely paid him any mind. Matsuwaka grinned, turning to Yahaba, who gave him a thumbs-up.

“I think I can get it just a little better,” said Matsuwaka. “Toss me another?”

Yahaba nodded, and grabbed another ball from the bin nearby. He readied himself to toss up the ball as Matsuwaka reset himself. As he did, Kindaichi noticed the scattered balls on the other side of the court—practice wasn’t set to officially start for another ten minutes or so, but Matsuwaka had been practicing his spikes and volleys for a little while now. Noticing now the slight gleam of sweat on Matsuwaka’s forehead, Kindaichi realized just how much work he must have been putting into this—it wasn’t just a natural talent, though he had that, too—Matsuwaka had to constantly improve on his skills in order to stay up to the standards of Aoba Johsai—and his own standards. It meant that he had to constantly be working to improve, or else he’d get left behind.

When was the last time _he’d_ taken an extra step like that?

Kindaichi took a slight step backward, dallying near the edge of the court, and his eyes flitted around the room. At the practice match, he’d started—a first year, starting, which he’d been so excited about—but it just dawned on him now that this meant someone else _didn’t_ get to start. Sawauchi was jogging around the gym, just behind Hanamaki. He was a middle blocker, too, but Kindaichi hadn’t seen him start—or even play, really—for more than a few sets. This meant, of course, that Kindaichi’s position was the potential spot for a third year _he’d_ taken instead.

Did he have that level of intensity and power, that level of dedication, that he’d seen from all of the other players on the team, particularly all of his upperclassmen?

Matsuwaka’s hand connected with the ball, pulling Kindaichi out of his musings. He watched as the ball powered over the net, striking the court just inside the painted white lines. Matsuwaka pumped his fist with a little exclamation of “finally!” and turned to Yahaba to say something more. Kindaichi tried to hear what he was saying, but…

An arm slung over his shoulder, and before he could do anything, his captain was pulling him along—not forcefully, but with a manner that wouldn’t let him do anything but follow along.

“Kindaichi, you’ve been with us for a while now, haven’t you?” There was a sparkle, if that was even possible, in the lilt of his voice.

“Uh, yeah…” said Kindaichi, trying to squirm away from Oikawa. “I mean, just a little while, but…”

“…and yet you _still_ seem like you feel out of place in this gym!” He pulled Kindaichi in closer in an amicable sort of way, but Kindaichi wondered if it wasn’t at least partly also so that he could look down at him as he continued. “You _know_ that confidence is half the battle, don’t you?

“Oh, I… I mean, I guess?”

That wasn’t the level of confidence that Oikawa had evidently been looking for, because he spun Kindaichi around so that he could look him right in the eye. “Kindaichi-kun, don’t put yourself down.” The force of his voice made it clear that this wasn’t so much spoken as an encouragement as it was spoken as an order. “You should just do what I do.”

“Wh—?”

“That’s right,” said Oikawa. “Like this.” He had steered them around the court, so that they were standing by the ball bin Yahaba had been feeding from. Without speaking, he pushed past Yahaba and took the ball from his junior.

Matsuwaka, who had played with Oikawa for a while now, understood what he was doing, and he squatted just a bit to receive the set. Oikawa let out a short breath and tossed the ball upward, and Matsuwaka didn’t have to work at all to get to it. The ball hung directly in front of his hands for far longer than gravity had any right to let it, and Matsuwaka connected with the set, knocking it over the net with ease.

Oikawa gave a little clap. “Excellent job, Matsu-chan!”

Kindaichi turned away and began to cross to the benches. Between Oikawa’s overconfidence, Yahaba’s graceful ease, and Matsuwaka’s impressive dedication, he wasn’t sure that he was worthy to even stand in the same vicinity for long. He sat down on the wooden bench and slumped down, his forearms resting on his knees. He knew that he had some volleyball ability. He was tall, so that didn’t hurt, but the others on this team were the best. And they were the best for a reason. There was no way that he could even begin to measure up to their level. He just wasn’t there. Maybe if he’d practiced like Tobio had in middle school, but…

There was a shadow that fell over him like a kaiju rising from the ocean over an unsuspecting city. He didn’t want to look up. He knew it would be just another one of his incredible, over-talented teammates, but he looked anyway. He was too lanky to disappear by sticking his head in the sand.

He saw that it wasn’t just any one of his talented teammates—it was arguably his most talented teammate—Seijoh’s ace, Iwaizumi.

“Oh, uh…”

“Don’t hang your head like that.”

“What?”

“Between your knees. It’s embarrassing.”

Kindaichi sat up, his back flat against the wall. He looked up to Iwaizumi, who towered over him.

“Tougher than you thought, yeah?”

That wasn’t what he’d expected from the ace, but he just nodded. “Yeah, I guess…”

“I figured Shittykawa was trying to motivate you when I saw the way he totally didn’t.” He shook his head and turned to stand next to Kindaichi. Kindaichi noted that he didn’t sit down, and after a brief moment—one that impressed to him that maybe Iwaizumi was waiting for something—he stood up, as well. “So. What is it?”

Kindaichi stood up next to Iwaizumi, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I just—” He trailed off, twisting his fingers between each other. “I see you all practicing and I realize how much better you all are than me. What am I doing here if I can’t…”

“Stop it. You sound like a whiny asshole.” Iwaizumi stopped. He tensed a moment, then relaxed. “Sorry, it’s just that—Yuutarou, we don’t let just anyone on the team. You know that.”

Kindaichi’s mind flashed back to the day he’d gotten the invitation from Aoba Johsai in the mail. He’d been shocked—this was something that Tobio was going to get, sure, but he absolutely didn’t expect to get one of his own. But he had, and here he was. But that didn’t mean…

“Did you know that Oikawa really sucked at this game?” Kindaichi stopped worrying for a moment to look to his upperclassman.

“What?”

Iwaizumi nodded. “I mean, he was okay, but not anywhere near where he is now.” Iwaizumi’s eyes closed lightly as he reminisced. “But he worked at it, and he pushed himself, and that’s how he got to where he is now.”

“But so has every third year, right? I mean, all my seniors?”

“Yeah—maybe not as much as that psycho,” he jabbed his thumb toward his captain, who was laughing about something with Yahaba, “but everyone pays their dues.”

“But have _I_?”

Iwaizumi’s face went from a half smile to a hard line. He didn’t look angry, but his intensity took root in the air around him.

“Listen, okay?” said Iwaizumi. “I don’t want to be that asshole who lectures you, but listen: you’re good. That’s why you’re here. And you know what? If you’re not satisfied with that, or you want to look like one of those assholes…” He pointed to Matsuwaka and Oikawa, who were mid-set with Yahaba watching close by. “…you can work to get there. But you’ll never start if you keep beating yourself up. Got it?”

Kindaichi looked down to his hands for a moment, hands that had already become more calloused since he’d started practice with this team. He clenched them into fists and looked up to the court. “Yeah,” he said, maybe with a little more confidence than he actually had. He took a step forward from Iwaizumi, toward where Yahaba was sitting around with nothing to do. “Yeah, I do.”

He swallowed deeply, took a deep breath, and raised a hand.

“Yahaba, mind tossing me a few, too?”


End file.
